Meditation

You lay
in bed.
You breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.

You feel
each breath.
Deep.
Slow.
A purging.

You feel
the fear
leave.

You feel
your strength
return.

In.
Out.
Your soul
quiets.
Chaos flees,
replaced
by the moment

and nothing more,
for nothing else is needed.
Now
is enough.

Now leaves room
for God,
for love,
for yourself.

You lay
in bed
and breathe.

About this poem. 

Yes. I meditate. Yes, I do it laying down. It’s one of serveral sanity savers in my life. It seems it takes a lot to keep me sane.

Laughing joyfully,

Tom

PS – the picture was taken at The Clark museum.